


Five Nights at Home Depot

by agentandromeda, AthenasAspis (agentandromeda)



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Retail, Gen, Home Depot, MORE SAVING, bonky, crackfic, more doing, simon and rk900 centric
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-26
Updated: 2018-09-18
Packaged: 2019-06-16 10:36:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15435186
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/agentandromeda/pseuds/agentandromeda, https://archiveofourown.org/users/agentandromeda/pseuds/AthenasAspis
Summary: To help pay for college, Simon gets a job at the local Home Depot, along with his two best friends, a quiet doctor, and a new handsome stranger with beautiful eyes.But there's a reason that this particular Home Depot has trouble hiring employees even in economic downturns. A cryptid rumored to walk its aisles.Simon doesn't believe in ghosts.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This one goes out to my discord server. Follow cursed-dbh on tumblr for more. In fact, I'd recommend going through that blog before reading this.

Simon needed money.

It was as simple as that. College, no matter how profitable it would be in the long run, was costly, and jobs were scarce in Detroit. His sleep schedule was more of a series of naps whenever he could get them than any sort of nighttime rest. It was for these reasons that, upon seeing a HELP WANTED ad in the newspaper for a nighttime supervisor at the Home Depot on 7th, Simon immediately circled it and called the number.

There was a reason that Home Depot couldn’t get employees and Simon knew it. But he didn’t believe the stories about the ghost of Home Depot, the cryptid that supposedly roamed its aisles at night. A man that hunted whoever dared be there when the city was sleeping, or so swore a kid who had once spent the night there on a dare. A ghost rumored to rip night supervisors apart. 

In Simon’s junior year of high school, a young woman was found in the appliances section, beaten to death and dismembered. Everyone blamed the mysterious entity that supposedly stalked the floors of Home Depot. Her death became a cold case two years later, after no leads were found. 

There had also been an active serial killer in the area at the time. But that was a lot less interesting than blaming the Home Depot cryptid. 

And Home Depot paid well, far better than the industrial jobs and coffee shops Simon had been considering. 

He knew the drill. When Home Depot called back, he asked when he was going to come in for an interview. The man on the other side laughed.

“No need,” he said. “We only had five applicants, just the amount of people we need to monitor the halls at night.” 

He sounded friendly, and instructed Simon to report to the Home Depot at 10:30 that night.

“You’ll be starting at 11 most nights,” he explained, “but we wanted to give you some time to get to know your coworkers, find out where the flashlights are, get your bearings, that sort of thing.”

“Coworkers?” Simon inquired. 

“It’s a big store. There will be four other people working with you. I’m confident you’ll all get along great!”

The man’s voice was funny, and he spoke in a way that was odd in a manner Simon couldn’t quite put his finger on. 

“All right,” Simon told him, “I’ll be there.”

 

Simon pulled into the Home Depot parking lot at 10:10, his silver minivan the only car there. The keys were under a hollow styrofoam rock by the door, just as the email—signed “Connor”—had detailed. Simon thought it strange that their manager wasn’t going to be there and insisted on giving all his instructions over the phone, to the point of leaving the keys to the entire store in a place better suited to some apartment keys. 

He unlocked the store and entered. 

There was something eerie about department stores at night. Simon felt as though he wasn’t supposed to be there. It was easy to understand the myths about this Home Depot in the dark, where every piece of display furniture became a hulking shadow and every nondescript aisle became a place for a monster to hide. And the silence—the sounds of the nighttime city seemed to halt in fear at the door to the Home Depot. Simon could hear nothing but his own breathing.

In the email, Connor had told him about a door behind the garden section cash register that led to a little room with everything they would need for the nights. That mostly meant just flashlights and nifty little radios, plus a Home Depot apron for each of them. Simon decided to get everything ready for the four others that would no doubt arrive soon. It took him a few tries to find the correct key—how many locks were there in this store?—but he finally threw the door open.

Something jumped out at him, a tall, thin, hairy specter. Simon screamed and jumped back, and the thing clattered to the ground in front of him. A mop.

“Get it together, Simon,” he muttered to himself. 

As it turned out, the room was a storage closet mostly filled with cleaning supplies. The flashlights and radios were on a shelf in the corner. Simon scooped them up and laid them out on the garden section cash register. The aprons were stuffed under the cash register in a little cupboard. Simon only found them because there were so many aprons in there that the door didn’t close all the way. 

The email had also included instructions to open yet another door set into the same wall. This one opened into a small room containing a desk above which were mounted twelve monitors, with a swivel chair in front of the desk. The monitors each showed the feed from a different security camera. There was no one there, not even a coffee mug or other personal item to show that anyone else used the room. 

Simon outfitted himself with an apron, a radio, and a flashlight before hoisting himself up onto the register’s conveyor belt to sit and wait for his four coworkers. 

Simon heard the car before he saw it, and he recognized it immediately. He had ridden in that beat-up rust-red pickup truck before. It belonged to his roommate and friend Josh. Simon vaguely recalled Josh mentioning he too was looking for a job. It would be an incredible coincidence for them to both end up working at the same Home Depot. 

A knock came from the door. Simon slid off his seat and, sure enough, there was Josh, peering in through the plate glass. Josh’s eyes widened in both confusion and relief when he saw Simon. 

“Hey, Josh,” Simon said, opening the door for him. “This is an incredible coincidence.”

Josh nodded.

“A happy one, though. And, I mean, who else is hiring college students?”

“‘Sup, Simon,” another voice added, striding through the doors.

“North?” Simon demanded incredulously. “You work here now too?”

“Yeah, hitched a ride with Josh. It’s a small world, I guess.”

Simon shrugged.

“Dang. Is Lucy going to show up next?” 

Josh laughed.

“No, she already has a job, remember?”

Simon gestured to the aprons, flashlights, and radios.

“Set yourself up while we wait for the two others, I guess,” he instructed. 

At 10:20, a young blonde woman with a stethoscope around her neck walked in and introduced herself as Doctor Thotticus, Thottie or Thot for short. She didn’t say much, clearly unsure around her new coworkers that already had a relationship with each other.

Five minutes later, the distinctive sound of a muscle car echoed over the parking lot, cutting through their idle conversation. The kind of people—men, mostly—who drove muscle cars were generally the kind of people Simon didn’t like. 

When the man walked through the door, Simon was forced to change his generalization about men who drove muscle cars.

He was tall, and it said something that that was only the second thing Simon noticed about him. The first was his eyes, one green, one blue, piercing and determined. He walked like he knew where he was going, and that place happened to be the inside of a Home Depot. The way his coat billowed out behind him certainly added to the effect. Simon became aware that he was staring, and also blushing, and this made him aware that he had suddenly developed a crush. 

oh no, he thought, you don’t have time for this. 

The man decisively strode over to Simon and stuck his hand out.

“I’m Markus,” he announced, “with a K.”

“Nice to meet you, Karcus,” Simon mumbled, nearly swooning under his firm handshake. 

Karcus shook hands with the rest of the assembled employees. Simon barely noticed what was said. He was too busy staring at the way his arm muscles were visible through even his coat, his strong stance and easy smile.

dammit Simon, he chided himself, you’re so gay.

“So, when do we get started?” Karcus asked, clipping a radio to his apron.

As if on cue, a landline attached to a nearby wall began ringing. The assembled employees glanced at each other and wordlessly nominated Karcus to answer the call. 

“Hello?” Karcus answered. “Uh, yeah, I’ll put you on speaker.”

He pressed the speaker button, and Connor’s tinny voice echoed through the mostly empty store.

“Hi. My name is Connor. I’m the manager sent by Home Depot.”

“Hi, Connor,” they chorused back.

The job briefing was short and sweet. They were to walk the aisles with their flashlights, watching for wildlife (raccoons, mostly, the bastards) and teenage punks that were constantly trying to sneak in, lured by the legend of the Home Depot cryptid. One person, a different one each night, would sit in the room with the monitors and keep an eye on things.

The Home Depot was set up in two floors, with the second floor ringing the perimeter of the building in a rectangle, leaving a rectangle in the center through which those on the second floor could look down on the first. Above this cutout was a black box, which on closer observation was revealed to be a small room accessible through the roof. An impractical setup, but this Home Depot was nothing if not unique. Connor had implied that he would be watching from the roof box. but Simon suspected that this was a lie to get them to behave themselves. After all, if Connor was in the building, why would he use the phone instead of just coming down? 

“All right,” Karcus, already the unspoken leader, announced, rubbing his hands together, “let’s get started.”

Karcus was on monitor duty that night, and Simon couldn’t deny the nerves he felt knowing this handsome man was watching his every move.

They started their shift with amicable chatter over their radios, occasionally accompanied by the millisecond-early echoes of replies from across the vast store. This quickly faded into silence as minutes became hours. But from this conversation Simon learned quite a bit of important information. He learned that Karcus was an art student at their university, and that his intolerable car was a gift from his father, a famous artist. His favorite food was cinnamon rolls, he was afraid of mannequins, and he loved Britney Spears. 

“Don’t we all,” Simon had said with a laugh, immediately resolving to listen to her entire discography as soon as he got home that night—no, morning.

Karcus laughed, he seemed friendly, he seemed indefinable. Something fiery yet steady lurked behind his gemlike eyes, waiting to be found. 

Treading the linoleum quickly became boring and tiring, bordering on scary as the dark of night and his thin flashlight beam turned the merchandise into monsters. Simon wondered why Home Depot needed five people to watch one store. And if people breaking in was that much of a problem, why hire college students who couldn’t do anything but call people more qualified to handle the situation? Didn’t night watchmen usually do this sort of thing. What kind of job was “night supervisor,” anyway? He had plenty of time to ponder these questions in the uneventful darkness.

Then he turned a corner into the carpeting section, and his flashlight shone on a figure standing just at the end of the beam’s reach. 

“Hello?” Simon called, and his flashlight flickered out. He leaned into his radio. “Er, who else is in the carpeting section?”

Various responses of negation came from his coworkers. A trespasser, then. A tall one.

“Karcus?” “There’s something there,” Markus said thoughtfully, “but I can’t quite make it out. These monitors are very static. What kind of security does this place have?”

“All right,” Simon announced to the darkness, “I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

His flashlight flickered back into view. The figure was in the same location and the same pose. 

“A mannequin,” Simon breathed in relief. The figure was perfectly static, not even breathing. 

“Are you serious?” Karcus grumbled over the radio. 

Simon’s flashlight flickered back out. 

“Hunk of junk,” he proclaimed, whacking it against a nearby shelf. It came back to life, and Simon prepared to keep moving. He shone the flashlight at the mannequin one more time, just to be safe.

But it was different now.

The figure still stood in the same place, but now its arms were stuck out at perfect 90 degree angles to its body. 

Simon sighed. Not a mannequin, then. He’d have to kick someone out of the store on his first night. Some t-posing scoundrel, no doubt, sneaking in on a dare, perhaps flocking to the light in fear of the imaginary ghost of the Home Depot.

“I see you,” he told the figure. “You’re trespassing. Leave before I call the police.”

The figure didn’t move, but a blue light in the shape of a triangle flickered to life on its chest. Simon started walking towards it. It didn’t move, and the flashlight didn’t seem to illuminate it any more the closer he got.

“I have a trespasser in the carpeting section,” he announced into his radio. “Might need some help; he doesn’t seem to want to cooperate.”

And just like that, the figure was gone. It was like deleting a letter in a word processor. One minute there, the next not. Simon knew what he had seen a second before. Whoever had been at the end of the aisle hadn’t moved; his flashlight had remained in the same place. It had just vanished. 

“It’s gone,” Simon told them with some alarm. “Karcus, did you see that?” “I stopped looking as soon as you said it was a mannequin,” he responded.

“Okay,” North demanded in a tinny voice at odds with her real life personality, “who’s t-posing on top of the dryers? There are more meaningful ways to protest big corporations.”

“Are you near the paint store?” Josh asked her.

“No, why?”

“There’s a man t-posing like, right in front of me. I can’t really see him though.”

“I see him,” Karcus muttered. “He’s just a black shape. These are really shitty security cameras.”

“Wait, are we being invaded by a bunch of t-posers?” Thottie asked. “Because we should really call the—“ Static. 

“What the hell? The monitors just cut out. I’m calling Connor,” Karcus told them. 

“Thot?” Simon anxiously inquired over the radio. “You there?”

“Yeah,” she responded breathlessly, “just cut out for a second.”

“Good news, guys,” Karcus responded a few moments later, his voice as sweet and honey and soft as silk, “Connor’s notified the proper authorities.”

No police or security guards arrived during the rest of the shift, but Karcus assured them that Connor had assured him that it was all being taken care of. And indeed, there were no more intruders. Josh and North said that the t-posers had impossibly vanished a few moments after Karcus called Connor. This made Simon wonder if Connor was playing some sort of first-day joke on them. 

The rest of the night passed without incident, and Simon remembered one of the psychology books his ex-boyfriend Vincent had encouraged him to read. One of the few good things that man had left him with. It had been about the power of suggestion, a fascinating and chilling testament to the vulnerability of the human mind. It was entirely possible Simon had imagined a t-poser that had been a mannequin the whole time. A mysterious t-poser combined with the legends of that Home Depot could have been enough to convince the others they were seeing things. They had all been living off energy drinks, ramen, and too little sleep, so hallucinations were not only possible but expected. 

Or perhaps it was a prank. Josh had pulled worse; in their freshman year, to get back at Simon for covering his truck in sticky notes, he had superglued down every one of Simon’s possessions. Karcus’s fear of mannequins could have given Josh ideas, and it was clear from experience how willing North typically was to be roped into his schemes. Simon resolved to get closer to things before declaring whether or not they were a mannequin in the future.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A name is given to the faceless figure.

“Ready for night two?” North asked.

Simon was ready. Regardless of the t-posers, he was actually looking forward to it, and he told her that, without going into the reasons why.

“Me too,” she said. “I want to see more of the new guy. Karcus.” She leaned in closer over the table. “I happened to grab his number on my way out last night.”

Simon felt all his blood rush to his skin. They had the same reason, apparently.

“Oh,” was all he could say. Of course. An intimidatingly beautiful coworker enters the scene, and who should fall for him but his best friend, intimidatingly beautiful herself. How many stolen glances had she and Karcus exchanged while Simon was busy being an oblivious retail fool?

“What?” she prodded. “No playful nagging? No date night venue suggestions?”

Simon made an expression that he didn’t realize he was making. North, however, did.

“Oh. OH. I see what’s happening.”

Simon sighed and put his head in his hands. Of course she did. He had never been able to keep secrets from North.

“I’ve only known him for a day,” he mumbled. “He might turn out to be a Vincent.”

“Lots of guys are Vincents,” North muttered darkly. 

North generally didn’t trust strange men. She would make eyes at them, and she would seem perfectly amicable on the surface, but Simon had seen how quickly her demeanor changed when a guy made a wrong move.

Something had happened at a frat party. North didn’t talk about it, but she carried enough mace to permanently disable an average-sized elephant, and kept small blades on her keychain. 

Simon took another sip of his milk. North gave him a judgmental eyebrow raise. “I want strong bones,” he responded to her unspoken scathing taunt. “Anyway,” he continued, “our manager seems cool.”

North nodded. 

“It is weird that we haven’t seen him in person,” she said thoughtfully, stealing another one of Simon’s fries too fast for him to bat her hand away. He impatiently gestured to her fries.

“I’m sure he’s just busy. Or asleep.”

“Or a robot,” North joked. 

“Honestly, Home Depot seems like exactly the place robots would manage,” Simon laughed.

 

Simon was exhausted after biochemistry, as always. Even his burger lunch hadn’t given him the stamina to sit through another one of Professor Fowler’s lectures. He flopped down on his bed with a deep sigh, which didn’t even cause Josh to look up from his textbook. Which he was reading for fun. It was about the history of taxes. 

Just as Simon’s eyes began to close, his phone pinged with the sound of a text. His alert sound was the signature opening guitar of Despacito 2: The Despasequel. North could play it on any instrument, even the contrabassoon. 

owo what’s this? Simon thought. He typed in his 10-character password—no fingerprint sensor, after Vincent had used Simon’s thumb while he was sleeping to unlock his phone and jealously delete North’s contact information, even though really he should have been more worried about Josh, who everyone at the university knew was a straight up snacc, despite his piss kink—and checked the text. An unknown number. 

The text read simply: This is Simon, right?

The perfect capitalization and punctuation was odd, and not a texting pattern Simon associated with anyone he knew. A pity, as proper semantics was incredibly sexy.

Simon replied: yes, who is this

Unknown Number: Markus with a K. I thought since we’re coworkers we should be able to communicate, so I asked North for your number.

Simon: oh hi karcus

Karcus: My name is Markus with a K.

Simon: thats what i said

Karcus: Ok. What is your opinion on Connor, our manager? I thought it a little bit suspicious that no police or security showed up to kick out those t-posers. Karcus was either texting from a computer or had thumbs of inhuman agility. The “ok” seemed angry. Or maybe Karcus was just like that.  
Simon: idk hes probably a bot tbh   
Simon took a moment to figuratively pat himself on the back for his suave and scintillating text conversation skills, when in real life he was red-faced and nigh hyperventilating from reading those words: “I asked North for your number.”

It was the closest Simon had been to flirting in months. He’d set up wall after wall. But apparently this handsome man was good at parkour.

Karcus: Perhaps. We will need more time. I look forward to seeing you and the others tonight. I would like for us to be friends. Simon did not respond to this. He threw his phone in a panic and hit Josh in the back of the head. Josh was too engrossed in a thrilling analysis of the July Revolution’s impact on taxation policies to respond. He simply picked up Simon’s phone and tossed it back over his shoulder in a practiced motion learned from experience. Throwing objects was Simon’s standard Gay Panic response. He couldn’t help it. “Who is it this time?” Josh asked after at least fifteen minutes.

“New guy at work,” Simon mumbled through the pillow he had face planted into. 

Josh nodded.

“I can see it. I would totally get some, if you know what I mean,” he said in a completely monotone voice. 

“Yeah, but North is also into him, and work relationships never work out. So I’m not going to do anything,” Simon responded, only making that decision as he articulated it.

“And he could be a Vincent,” Josh added. 

“He could be a Vincent,” Simon echoed. He sighed into the pillow. “I need a nap. I get cranky without my nap.”

Josh didn’t respond. He had reached the chapter containing graphs comparing tax rates under Louis-Philippe and Louis XIV, which he had now begun to take detailed notes on. There was no reaching him now. Josh had once forgotten to eat for a full two days because he was so engrossed in an academic paper on barrel-making practices sorted by geographical markers. Simon would have helped him rejoin reality, except that was the week North took knife throwing classes and Simon had to stop her from throwing knives at people on multiple occasions. She was scarily good at throwing knives. She was also scarily bad at not throwing knives. 

With that thought looming on his mental horizon like Josh over a full jar of peanut butter (he ate it with his fingers), Simon went to sleep. When he woke up, it would be time for his second night at Home Depot.

 

Simon was the first one to the Home Depot again. Josh had offered to drive him, but he trusted neither the janky pickup nor any car with Josh driving. Josh had taken five tries to pass his driving test, which he hadn’t taken until age 20. Simon preferred to stick with his minivan, which North had decided to name Helen. 

Helen quite suited the minivan. It handled like it wanted to speak to the manager.

The keys were where he had left them. The rooms were where he had left them. This was mildly surprising for some reason. The Home Depot felt like a place where it would not be out of the ordinary for rooms to move, as if it was a business owned by the fae. Which was ridiculous, as the Fair Folk were famously communists and would not touch a large corporation such as Home Depot. There was the group of socialist elves that ran a co-op, but that was across town from the Home Depot. 

It was North’s turn on the monitors. This comforted Simon a little. He liked having her watching his back. He just hoped there was nothing in the Home Depot that warranted watching his back against. 

Simon’s first rude surprise of the night came when he went to get the aprons. They were under the register, spilling out of a cupboard, as they had been the previous night, but as soon as Simon pulled one out, it was apparent something was wrong. He pulled out not an apron but a torn piece of orange fabric that vaguely resembled an apron. It looked like it had been ripped to pieces by some sort of angry blunt-toothed animal, and a substance that looked suspiciously like blood speckled the surface. Simon pulled out another apron, only to find that it had received the same treatment. He pulled out every apron, and sure enough, every single one was ripped to shreds.

They had only stayed from 11 till 4 the previous night. That left plenty of nighttime for someone to sneak in. Why hire night supervisors for only part of the night? Surely replacements had come in. But why wouldn’t they have seen them?

Was the t-poser still in the building?

By the time Simon had left the previous night, he was tired enough not to care. Apparently, no matter how many naps he got, his circadian rhythm still told him to be sleepy during the nighttime. Or maybe his abysmally poor diet, mostly comprised of ramen, protein bars, and peanut butter straight out of the jar, made it impossible to work that long. 

This time, it was the sports car that echoed across the lot first. Karcus had arrived. No one else had. Karcus and Simon would be alone together. Simon’s heart beat too fast. He became painfully aware of his full body blush. 

Karcus, of course, did not blush as he walked through the doors. Karcus seemed like he had never blushed in his life. 

“Hey, Simon,” Karcus greeted him.

“Hello,” Simon said through the knot in his throat. “Aprons busted,” he added, holding up some of the orange scraps.

Karcus frowned and walked over, leaning in to examine the ruined apron.

“Mamma mia,” he said, “that’s a spicy meatball. What happened here?”

Simon shrugged. He did not have enough braining left in him to make the words go. 

“Looks like some sort of animal,” Karcus muttered, still a bit too close to Simon, and Simon wanted him closer, as he was a useless Gay. 

“A Home Depot raccoon, perhaps,” Simon added, just above a whisper.

“Perhaps,” Karcus murmured. “May I?” Simon nodded, and Karcus brushed his fingers over Simon’s as he took the apron, and Simon felt a warmth somewhere in his chest. Or maybe that was just heartburn from the burger. It had been a very large and greasy burger. Simon Loved the Grease.

“My friend mentioned something about this,” Karcus said quietly.

“Oh?” Simon asked. Karcus had not backed up when he took the apron.

“Well, not a friend. Asshole whom I know through my brother.” He looked up at Simon, who had to glance away every few seconds. His gaze was steady, intense, and probing, and Simon feared Karcus could read his thoughts. “He used to work here,” Karcus continued.

“Did he say something about…” Simon gestured to the tattered apron.

“Yes, he did. He said there was something in the store, something that ripped up the aprons. The manager didn’t do anything about it, apparently.”

“Well, at least whatever it is only ripped up aprons.”

“Not according to him,” Karcus said, lowering his voice. “The four others he worked with died of mysterious circumstances within the month.” He shrugged and set the apron down on the conveyor belt. “According to him, anyway.”

“Do you think he’s telling the truth?” Simon asked. He didn’t think this acquaintance of a brother was speaking the truth, but found that if Karcus believed him, he would without hesitation. The man was magnetic without making an effort to be charming. He would make a great social activist. Or cult leader. 

Simon realized that he had just vowed to believe total bullshit if a hot guy said it. He checked himself. 

“No, he’s always been an asshole,” Karcus said reflectively, and Simon breathed an internal sigh of relief. “His favorite pastime is telling children that Santa isn’t real and that Mothman will come for them if they’re naughty. It is odd that this seems to be a common experience with Home Depot, though.”

“Cryptid myths beget pranksters, I guess,” Simon said softly, too softly than a normal conversation warranted. He dared a glance at Karcus’s eyes and melted under his gaze. He prayed that Karcus didn’t notice.

Doctor Thotticus arrived next. Simon did not hear her car, nor did he see her walk through the doors, even though he was watching the doors in his peripheral vision. She was just there, asking what happened to the aprons.

“What happened to the aprons?” she asked, because that is how one asks what happened to the aprons.

“We don’t know,” Karcus and Simon said in unison. Wow, that man is perfect, they thought but did not say in unison. 

Doctor Thot shrugged.

“I doubt it’s even important that we wear them adskfjhafkh,” she said.

“How the hell are you doing that out loud?” Karcus demanded, looking a little frightened. It was an unusual expression for his face to wear.

At that moment, Josh’s truck rattled its way into the parking lot. 

“That’s North and Josh, right?” Karcus asked Simon. Simon nodded and felt a little spark of jealousy. He tried to smother the aforementioned spark. Simon didn’t have very many good experiences with jealousy. 

At exactly 11:05, the phone rang. This time, it was Simon who answered and pressed the speakerphone button.

“Hello, assorted employees,” Connor said.

“Hello, Connor,” they chorused back. None of them quite knew what to think of Connor.

“Last night was quite a low-key night,” their manager continued, “but things seem to get rowdier as the week goes on. You will be completely safe, especially if you wear your aprons. The aprons designate you as authorized personnel to anyone in the building.”

“Uh, yeah,” Simon began hesitantly, “about the aprons. Someone ripped them up.”

Connor gave a deep sigh from the other end of the line. It sounded like air rushing through a vent.

“Oh, well,” he replied, “no matter. We will replace them soon. But don’t worry. I’m always watching you.”

Simon frowned. That didn’t make him any less worried. 

“What do you mean, anyone in the building?” Karcus demanded.

“Anyway,” Connor continued, “it’s probably best if you guys partner up from now on. Just to be safe.”

And with that, he hung up. Karcus crossed his arms and looked at the phone like it had disappointed him.

“I’m on camera duty,” North offered, winking at Simon.

“Hey, Thot,” Josh said quickly, sparing a quick wink at Simon, “wanna be partners?”

“Sure,” Thot replied, winking at Simon.

“Guess it’s you and me,” Karcus said to Simon with a wink, and Simon felt like he was literally going to overheat.

Simon clipped on his radio.

“Let’s begin,” he said decisively.

 

Karcus and Simon talked about their classes, their majors, their friends. Simon learned that Karcus’s brother was named Leo, and his father, Carl, was a famous artist. Just as Karcus was telling him about the art department’s Christmas tradition of lighting torches and chanting ancient Hungarian curses outside the honors dorms, Simon’s flashlight caught something that wasn’t Home Depot merchandise in its beam.

“Karcus,” Simon hissed, “what the hell is that?”

They were in the wood section, and on top of one of the stacks of two-by-fours, someone was lying down.

“Hello?” Karcus called. 

The two of them inched closer and closer to the figure. It was face down and nothing more than a shadow compared to the tan wood and orange shelving. 

All of a sudden, it turned its head and stared directly at them. Its eyes were blue, too blue. Blue eyes that shouldn’t have been visible in the dark, but the irises seemed to glow with their own inner light. Under normal circumstances, this would have caused Simon to turn tail and run, but this just seemed like the sort of thing that happened in this Home Depot.

“I’m going to have to ask you to leave,” Karcus demanded with a sexy confidence, “you’re trespassing.”

“No apron,” someone said from behind them.

“Who said that?” Simon yelled, turning around so fast he almost lost his balance.

“No apron,” came the voice, sounding uncannily like Connor but with an undercurrent of something echoey and malevolent, from somewhere completely different.

“No apron,” it said again, “trespassers.” This time the voice unquestionably came from the planking figure. Simon felt adrenaline course through his body. He suddenly felt like he was an outsider, like he didn’t belong here, and there was something with the right to kick him out. 

The figure sat up on the two-by-four, noclipping through the shelf above it so its chin poked out neatly above a long plank suitable for trim or perhaps a doorframe.

“Who are you?” Karcus asked. “What are you doing?”

“I am the beginning and the end,” it answered in that uncanny voice. “When the whole universe has been destroyed in the force of four trillion suns, I will remain.” The figure began to hover higher and higher, noclipping through shelves as it ascended. “I Am Bonky.”

“Ok, well, uh, Bonky,” Simon said, trying to look as confident as Karcus, “you need to leave before we call the police.”

“Fools,” Bonky announced, suddenly rushing at them. Simon pushed Karcus behind him and shone the light in Bonky’s eyes. Bonky stopped a mere foot in front of Simon.

“Mercy will be shown this time,” he rumbled. Simon took this opportunity to examine Bonky. He was bald, with blue eyes showing the wisdom of every cosmos. On his right arm was a blue armband, on his left tiddy a blue triangle, on his chest a Home Depot apron. He belonged. He was the Guardian of the Home Depot. Simon knew this as true as he knew his own name. 

“Next time,” Bonky hissed, not hissed as humans hiss through clenched teeth, or as animals hiss through open mouths, but as air hisses coming out of an oxygen tank that’s been stabbed, “genuflect before your god.”

And just like that, Bonky was gone without a trace.

It was at this point that Simon realized that, in pushing Karcus behind him, he had inadvertently grasped his left boob. He quickly dropped his hand.

“Who was that?” Simon asked in a reverent whisper.

“Bonky, apparently,” Karcus murmured, equally reverent. He leaned into his radio. “North, did you catch that?”

“Catch what?” North asked.

“The noclipping planker,” Simon told her.

“What?” North scoffed. “All I saw was you suddenly stopping and grabbing Karcus’s tit for some reason.”

“I’m not opposed to a little titty grabbing now and then,” Karcus said thoughtfully.

“Dude, oh my God,” North chided him whilst Simon banged his head against a nearby shelving unit.

“I think you mean, oh my Bonky,” Karcus responded. “I believe there may be a new deity in this store.”

There was the cult leader affinity. Simon had been impressed and a tad intimidated by Bonky, but not enough to worship him. 

“Josh, Thot, are you guys seeing anything unusual?” Simon asked. 

“Everything good over here,” Thot responded cheerily. 

Author’s Note: Please observe that Thot never denied that she had seen something unusual. Or perhaps she had, but what she saw was not unusual for her. Please draw your own conclusions.

“I’m calling Connor,” Karcus decided, pulling out his phone. His perfect skin was backlit attractively by the blue screen, casting a light the exact color of his right eye. Karcus was beautiful from every angle, but not in a way that made others feel bad about their own attractiveness.

“You can’t just respond to every problem by calling Connor,” Simon laughed. 

Karcus shrugged. “It won’t hurt.” He put the phone to his ear. “Connor. It’s me, Markus with a K.” A pause. “No, Markus. With a K.” He sighed. “Whatever. Listen, are you familiar with the name Bonky?” A pause. Then Karcus taking the phone away from his ear and frowning at it in confusion.

“What did he say?” Simon asked.

“He told me not to worry about it, laughed, and hung up.” Karcus looked troubled. It was an expression that fit well on his face. His was a face built for serious topics.

“Well, I’ve had worse managers. And worse jobs,” Simon told him.

“Have you ever had a cryptid on a job before?” Karcus inquired.

“I mean, no, unless you count the time I dressed up as Mothman to advertise a burger stand and ended up getting heatstroke.”

“Sorry, what?”

“Oh, damn,” North said over the radio. “He just shared one of his most embarrassing memories. Things are heating up.”

“It naturally came up in the conversation!” Simon all but shouted into the radio before shutting off his outgoing signal. 

They continued to walk the aisles. They tried to make small talk, but every conversation inevitably looped back to Bonky, the specter of Home Depot, the name to a faceless legend. 

“Maybe he’s here to guard us,” Simon postulated, “like a shepherd.”

“So you think he’s benevolent, not malevolent?”

“I guess.”

Karcus nodded, not just a nod of acknowledgement, but acceptance, as though he accepted Bonky as benevolent just because that’s what Simon thought. It was flattering to influence someone as magnetically persuasive as Karcus. 

“So I was thinking,” Karcus suddenly said, and Simon knew immediately that this was going to be a topic change, “tomorrow, once you get off school, do you want to grab dinner?”

At this point, Simon literally short-circuited and had to grab a discount lawn chair for support. 

“I’d like that,” he said with a smile, leaning against the lawn chair in a manner he attempted to make look suave and completely intentional. 

“Excellent!” Karcus said. “I’ll text you tomorrow morning, then?”

“Sounds good,” Simon said, his heart beating too fast, but in a good way. Karcus was unknown, but nothing about him said danger.

The opening notes to Despacito 2: The Despasquel echoed from Simon’s jean pocket. He glanced at his phone screen. A single text.

North: GET SOME

He double checked his radio then remembered that North was actually watching them and had taken multiple classes on reading body language. North had taken many extracurricular classes, all of which she used for semi-nefarious purposes. 

“Love is in the air,” the familiar voice of Bonky whispered tenderly into Simon’s left ear. “Pray you don’t choke on it."


	3. Night 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> omg its a first date owo! we stan simkus

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> man i thought id never update this but i just knocked out 1.7k in 45 minutes so i guess heres an update

Karcus picked Simon up from the student union parking lot at precisely 5:30 PM. It was the first time Simon had seen his sports car in the light of day, and he had to admit, it was beautiful. Karcus had obviously painted it himself in an impressionistic style, a work of art on every body panel. Shards of grey and blue formed enigmatic faces and shapes that drew the eye of many passerby. Clearly, Karcus was quite the artist. On the hood, painted in beautiful short strokes of many iridescent colors, was the masterpiece of the car: a closeup of the face of the Hamburger Helper. The sheer beauty of this work nearly brought Simon to tears. 

He got in the car alongside Karcus. The stereo was already blaring Despacito 2: The Despasequel, which Karcus turned down as Simon entered the car. 

“Where are we going?” Simon asked, and Karcus gave him that charming half-smile.

“Dinner,” he responded, “I know a great place near here. Then I was thinking we could see a movie.”

“What’s showing?” Simon asked. 

“Bee Movie 2: The Beequel,” Karcus responded, and Simon nearly swooned at his impeccable taste in film. 

Bee Movie 2: The Beequel was an astounding work of art that made Simon awed and horny in equal measure. Karcus slung his arm around Simon’s shoulder with confidence, and Simon leaned against him, heady on the rush of a first date. 

After the movie, they drove to Chili’s. Karcus’s choice. Simon had never been, but Karcus promised it was quite the experience.

“Hi,” Karcus announced, throwing the doors open, “welcome to Chili’s.”

The Chili’s, needless to say, was an extremely classy establishment. Elaborate chandeliers threw sparkling white shards of light onto the coattail-sporting waiters that bustled around carrying platters of lobster and roast unicorn dick. Truly the most elegant establishment in town. 

Karcus and Simon chatted easily, bouncing from topic to topic. Whether politics, friendship, Shrek vore, or the meaning of beauty, every exchange came naturally. It was as if he’d known Karcus his whole life.

“Personally,” Karcus said in that honeyed voice, “I’d want Shrek to start from the bottom.”

“And lick your toes a lot first,” Simon continued, “of course.” 

Karcus’s small smile indicated he was in agreement. 

They ordered a dish of broiled bepis meat to share. The food would have been delicious either way, but there is no seasoning so spicy as the flutterings of a crush. The butterflies in Simon’s stomach seemed to punctuate every bite with flavor, and Karcus’s smiles were as good as salt and pepper. 

Eventually, the conversation turned to work. They had intentionally planned the date to go late so Karcus and Simon could arrive at the Home Depot together. He figured there wasn’t much point in trying to be subtle; he had immediately informed Josh and North of the date plans in an all-caps rant of excitement. 

“Tell me about Josh and North,” Karcus urged. “I’d love to get to know your friends better.”

Simon told him all about them in a gush of words, euphoric on attraction and the signature bepis meat high. Karcus drank in his descriptions with rapt attention. He wasn’t just paying attention; he was listening. He was thinking about everything Simon said. It was so refreshing to just sit there and be listened to.

For desert, they enjoyed several cryogenically frozen fingers. They were creamy and delicious. 

“Thank you so much for dinner,” Simon said as they exited, arm in arm, from the classy establishment. 

“Of course,” Karcus chuckled. “But the pleasure of your company was all mine.” 

Simon blushed. 

They climbed into Karcus’s car, which Simon had learned over dinner was named Zoomie the Vroomy Pal. But once Simon was buckled, Karcus didn’t drive away immediately. He gave Simon a curious look rendered glowing in the soft light of the rising moon. 

And then Karcus leaned over the center console and kissed him.

It was just a short kiss, a light touch, a quick brush of lip against lip, but Simon felt that stirring feeling in his chest leap and thrash in ecstasy against his ribs. As much as he hated to make the comparison, it was nothing like Vincent. This was new and full of possibility, a fresh and heady liquor he wanted to taste again and again. 

So he did, pressing his lips back against Karcus’s, hand on neck and hand on leg, skin on cloth on skin. 

“Was that okay?” Karcus murmured as they parted, faces still only inches apart. 

Simon laughed into his cheek. “Of course.”

“Does it change anything if I tell you I’m a furry?” Karcus asked. 

“What’s your fursona?” Simon replied.

“Barry B. Benson,” Karcus murmured sensually into Simon’s ear.

“That is the most valid and sexy fucking thing I’ve ever heard,” Simon breathed. 

Karcus pressed a kiss that turned into a nibble to the skin at the base of Simon’s ear. Simon wrapped his hand around Karcus’s arm and was about to suggest they head back to his place when he caught the clock out of the corner of his eye.

“Shit,” he muttered, pulling back. “Er, we have to go to work.”

Karcus’s eyes flashed with disappointment for a moment, but he revved up the engine and started driving towards the Home Depot.

 

The aprons, apparently, were still out of commission, but Connor had provided them orange t-shirts to wear while they got a new order shipped in.

“It’s very important that you wear these,” he explained over the phone. “Brand loyalty and all that. Seriously, wear the shirts.”

Simon put on the shirt. Karcus scoffed and tossed it aside.

“What?” he countered Thot’s questioning glare. “It’s not like he’s around or anything.”

Privately, Simon knew the shirts would not be enforced. But he also knew he looked amazing in orange. Apparently Karcus thought so too, eyeing him over with a thoughtful drag of teeth over his bottom lip. Simon couldn’t resist a teasing smirk. Josh and Thot elected to wear the shirts, while North did not.

“I refuse to brand myself with the colors of corporate greed,” she explained.

Simon sighed. “You’re working for them, North. You’re already enabling the oppressors of the widow and orphan.”

“Don’t remind me, Simon.”

Josh was on camera duty that night. He expressed the by now familiar disdain for the ancient security system that belonged in a horror movie rather than an actual department store with an actual budget. 

“Seriously,” he complained, “no wonder they can never catch any of those vandals.”

“Do you think Bonky will show up again?” Simon asked Karcus as they began their rounds. 

Karcus shrugged.

“No idea. I suspect it’s some sort of prank. But don’t worry. We’re perfectly safe.”

Simon nodded, put at ease. He automatically trusted Karcus. He tried to remind himself of the dangers of trust, made his mind recite how badly he’d been burned before, but something in his heart that hadn’t moved in a long time tugged towards Karcus and urged Simon to do the same. It was as if, simply by his presence, this man was healing Simon. As if he held within him some sort of light. As if he himself was that ancient god of restoration, Minecraft Steve. 

Simon looked at Karcus with hopeless adoration. He’d fight creepers by this man’s side any day. And perhaps be lucky enough to find a vein of diamonds.

Slow down, Simon, he cautioned. There’ll be time to think about diamonds later.

“Lost in thought?” Karcus asked, and Simon shook himself out of his reverie. They were in the plumbing section, strolling down an aisle of toilets.

“Er, yeah,” Simon responded.

“What’s on your mind?” He asked it so gently, and Simon knew any answer would be accepted. But Karcus still made him nervous.

“Minecraftcito,” he blurted, and Karcus began softly singing it under his breath. Simon gazed up at him and knew this was the one.

“Unacceptable,” a voice rumbled before them. Simon looked around with a start to find Bonky standing with one arm bent over his face and the other arm sticking straight out. Further observation revealed the eldritch figure was standing on a toilet that was sitting ominously in the center of the aisle.

“Wh-what’s unacceptable?” Simon stuttered, and as if in a computer glitch, Bonky’s dab was instantly reversed. 

Bonky slowly lowered his arms, and his eyes were glowing blue with undisguised contempt. Simon knew somehow that it was justified. He also knew that Bonky was about to attack.

Apparently Karcus knew it too, because he stepped in front of Simon with one arm held out like a shield. Bonky chuckled, a long, drawn-out sound that filled Simon’s heart with an emotion so dark as to be indescribable. 

“You need not worry for him,” he sneered. “My quarrel is with those who do not bear the standard of my patron.”

In the space of a blink, Bonky was holding up Karcus by the neck. He choked and struggled, kicking his feet impotently. 

“Let him go!” Simon cried. Bonky slowly, like an owl, turned his head to face the voice.

“He does not die tonight,” and Bonky’s voice was suddenly one thousand voices, all screaming. “There is still payment I aim to exact.”

And with that, Bonky threw Karcus into the toilets.

There was an unbearable sound of shattering as Karcus’s body went limp in the porcelain shards. Bonky was nowhere to be seen.

“Karcus!” Simon shouted, rushing to his side. 

Karcus groaned and stirred. He had one cut on his head and another on his arm, but they looked shallow. He rolled off of the shattered toilet and looked back on the wreckage.

“Shit, that’s gonna come out of my paycheck,” he muttered.

“I’m calling an ambulance,” Simon said in a panic. He pulled his phone out of his pocket, but Karcus grabbed his wrist and motioned for him to put it back.

“I’m fine,” he insisted. “Besides, I can’t afford an ambulance ride right now.”

Just then, North’s screams echoed from the walkie-talkie. 

“North!” Josh and Simon shouted in unison.

“Get back!” she screamed and someone—something—and they all heard the unmistakable sound of a pipe hitting an ancient god. “That’ll teach you!”

Karcus leapt to his feet, but realized he could do nothing. He put his hands against his head and paced back and forth.

It was the first time Simon had seen him scared like this. It was highly disconcerting; Simon had been operating on the unspoken assumption that Karcus was the most capable out of all of them, so to see him rattled was a sign that there was cause for alarm. 

“North, where are you?” Simon demanded.

“Doesn’t matter,” she crackled back, “Bonky’s gone. Mystical bastard.”

“We need to talk to Connor,” Thot said anxiously. “I didn’t sign up for any of this.”

They gathered around the phone once the shift was over and waited for Connor’s call. When he finally called, Karcus picked up and immediately snapped, “Connor, what the hell?”

“What do you mean?” Connor asked innocently. 

“That thing that lives here beat North and I to shit,” Karcus growled. Simon could see he was now in protective mode; he was more angry for North’s black eye and bruised ribs than his own blood. 

“Well,” Connor told him, “we really can’t be blamed for that. We did tell you to wear the shirts. Bonky gets very angry when you’re not wearing orange.”

“Told you orange is the sexiest color,” Thot gloated.

“I like black and yellow better,” Karcus murmured to Simon, whose face broke into a sickeningly sappy smile entirely of its own accord. 

“Yes, yes, we’re all horny for orange,” North sighed. “But if any more crazy shit happens tomorrow, I’m out.”

“Oh,” Connor chuckled, “I promise that, for four out of five of you, tomorrow will be most uneventful.”

“The hell does that mean?” Thot demanded. 

“Don’t worry,” Connor backtracked hastily, “I mean that in a good way. One of you will get a special treat that will also help the others!”

Karcus demanded clarification, but Connor had already hung up. Night three was out of the way. Simon hoped this was not a predictor for how the following weeks and months of this job would go.


End file.
